


Gratitude

by WhitethornWolf



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Book XIV spoilers, F/M, Feelings Realization, Kissing, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-22
Updated: 2019-03-22
Packaged: 2019-11-27 19:22:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18198311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhitethornWolf/pseuds/WhitethornWolf
Summary: Regret and guilt settle like lead in my stomach. It must have shown in my expression, for Asra’s face softens. His fingers curl ever-so-slightly against my palms.“Asra,” I say, barely above a whisper, and try to swallow the sudden lump in my throat. “Why would you do that for me?”A slight flush makes its way across his cheeks, but he doesn’t look away. “Do you have to ask?”~The apprentice finally gets an answer out of Asra.





	Gratitude

**Author's Note:**

> Genderneutral apprentice. If you use the InteractiveFics extension, it will replace Y/N with your apprentice's name.  
> Follow me @lesbianarcana on tumblr for the good stuff.

“You knew, didn’t you?”

By the look on Asra’s face, he knows exactly what I’m referring to, without having to ask. His lovely eyes blink at me from under his curly hair. He looks a little apologetic and, for a reason I can’t fathom, a little sad.

“Y/N, I…” he trails off. “Yes, I did.”

My first instinct is to be angry. Such an enormous secret changes  _ everything _ , explaining so much of what had once been a mystery. But...despite his frustrating penchant for keeping secrets, Asra is rarely thoughtless and never cruel. If he kept it from me, there has to be a reason.

“How could you keep such a thing from me?” I ask. I try not to feel hurt, but it seeps into my voice anyway, and the corners of Asra’s mouth turn down. He sighs, and his gaze darts away from my facemomentarily.

“I’m sorry,” he says softly, and finally looks me in the eye. “I tried to tell you before, but it never worked. Your headaches…”

There is an answering throb in my temples. I shake my head. I can feel Julian’s curiosity from my right, mingled with Asra’s concern.

“Are you alright?” Asra asks. His gaze searches my face, his pale eyebrows drawing together. “You’re not hurting?”

“I’m fine,” I reply impatiently. “I...if I died, then….how am I here now? Do you know?”

Asra nods. “Sort of. I know I performed some sort of...ritual at the last Masquerade.”

“But there’s more to it. There must be more.”

I don’t miss the subtle glance Asra flicks at Julian, who has been uncharacteristically quiet.

“Julian,” I say, and he jumps. “Can you give us a minute? Please?”

Julian looks startled. “Oh...er, of course. I’ll just...ah, go over here, I suppose.”

“Sorry. I just…” I trail off awkwardly. “I’ll just be a minute. Promise.”

Julian gives my hand a quick squeeze and shuffles a few feet further down the hall, leaning against a polished stone column.

I reach for Asra’s hands, pressing my thumbs against the fine bones, smoothing away the tension and the faint echo of pain. He looks worn out, not just by exertion but something deeper. Something that weighs on his heart rather than his body.

“You once told me anything is possible,” I begin, “if you were willing to pay the price.”

“Yes.”

“You made a deal.”

“Yes.”

Regret and guilt settle like lead in my stomach. It must have shown in my expression, for Asra’s face softens. His fingers curl ever-so-slightly against my palms.

“Asra,” I say, barely above a whisper, and tries to swallow the sudden lump in my throat. “Why would you do that for me?”

A slight flush makes its way across his cheeks, but he doesn’t look away. “Do you have to ask?”

I don’t. 

I know the answer, like a little thrill of happiness blooming in my chest...but still I need to hear him say it. To speak it into existence would make it  _ real _ , and it would mean more trouble than I can perhaps handle at the moment...but with the Masquerade looming and all that’s going on, I might not get the chance to ask again.

“We had something.”

Asra nods, worrying at his lip.

“When the plague really took hold of Vesuvia, I wanted to leave...so we could be safe. But you wanted to stay and help the plague victims. So I left, and when I came back it was...you were…”

There are tears glittering unshed in his eyes, I realise with a shock. His mouth twists, embarrassed.

“Oh, Asra.” I take his face in my hands, wiping away the moisture that spills over his cheeks. “Why? Why didn’t you say something? All this time…”

Asra’s hands settle on my elbows; I can feel warmth creeping underneath my hands. He blinks, as if startled by the question.

“I thought…” he begins, then pauses. “I thought it...us...may have been tied to the memories you lost. I didn’t want to hurt you by trying to make you remember. And…” he pauses again, searching for the words. “You needed me in other ways, Y/N. As a teacher, and someone to guide you and help you relearn everything. Though, I suppose you don’t really need me anymore...”

The rush of emotion that follows is strong enough to bring tears to my eyes, if only for the pride in his voice and the wistful smile he wears.

“No, Asra,  _ no _ . I do need you...even if I haven’t much more to learn.”

I lean in without thinking. My lips press against his softly, and he goes rigid. His fingers clutch my elbows, as if he’s afraid I’ll pull away.

“You’ve done so much for me.” Another kiss, and those beautiful eyes close.

“You gave up so much.” Another kiss; he makes a small, hopeful sound, and I feel his lips moving against mine. He’s trembling. “I love you.”

A cough echoes from further down the hall, followed by a tentative creak of leather. I pull back, stroking the soft hair from Asra’s forehead. He’s stunned speechless; eyes wide and lips parted, with a flush blazing across his cheeks.

“Y/N,” he says unsteadily, then his gaze turns to Julian. He’s watching them avidly, eyes darting between their faces. He looks...startled, understandably, but not surprised. And certainly not displeased. There’s a blush spreading across his cheeks, I notice with interest, and it deepens when they lock eyes. Asra’s face relaxes into a smile, and disentangles himself...but not quite. His arm lingers around my waist, squeezing affectionately.

“Come join us, Ilya,” he says, and holds out his hand.

Love feels...different between them, I realise, as Julian takes Asra’s hand. With Julian, it’s passion, excitement; a magnetic attraction that draws me in with ease. With Asra it’s familiarity, warmth; a deep, intense bond beyond even what I can really fathom. 

As my arms tighten around them both, comfort washes over me. I love Asra, yes, but I love  Julian... but I love Asra, and I also love--

I can’t live without either of them, I realises, and sigh with contentment at their entwined embrace. And I don’t want to.

They would have to talk about this.   
  



End file.
